Dedicated:  I have dedicated this poem to all Muslim men who do not enforce the hijab on women rather advice and let them choose for themselves. Lastly, and most importantly, the poem is dedicated to all individuals from different faiths who do not judge, seclude or oppress a Muslim woman due to their choice of dress code.

Crushed soul
Crushed – for they drill a hole
Creating void, a black hole


Knock Knock
Who’s there?
Victim
Of what?
(silence )
Victim of what?
(silence)
Prithee share, I won’t cut


Steely stares at my dress
Sense of seclusion they impress
Hijab, an issue they address
Us, they ignorantly oppress
Oh, a shallow look that regress
Me further into deeper stress
Sadness overcomes as I digress
This sorry situation; I must contest


Silence, I am silent
BUT, not acquiescent


Tolerating, finally I just had to
Let it out or simply stay blue
Wishing to find a cure, to undo
The damage done to moi, by you
For I am truly falling through
Listening to the lies you brew
Would you cure it, would you?
Answer me, in words that are true


Sethe’s chockcherry tree; what a mess
I carry one as well, oh yes
Beloved; sixty million and more…God bless!
Moi, another human; I must impress
We suffer at our own hands; I protest
Our weaknesses we must repress
Sostoris drew a blank card, I assess
A blank card people; just digress


Would you cure it, would you?
Answer me, in words that are true

By: Cercatore a.k.a. Arzoo

Copyright © 2010 by Arzoo Zaheer